


Shark Teeth

by Cottonstones



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Hair-pulling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: Joseph sits next to Robert, close enough that their thighs touch. He has the bottle again, and he takes a sip. Robert’s fingers itch for something to do, something that doesn’t involve undressing Joseph. He’s got one cigarette in the pack tucked into his jacket pocket, and he’d rather save that for the end of the night, when he’ll really need it.





	Shark Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a commission for one of my followers on tumblr!

Joseph leans in past Robert, his chest brushing the line of Robert’s arm. Joseph smiles as he turns the metal handle of the door in front of them, nudging it open to reveal the downstairs bedroom of his yacht. Robert ignores the borderline smug smile on Joseph’s face and slips into the room, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He doesn’t really need it, the day is warm, even with the setting sun the heat still lingers in the air, but it’s a comfort thing, almost as if the jacket were a shield, something to protect Robert from what might hurt him. 

Robert scans the room, “You cleaned up in here.” He turns to face Joseph, watching as the blonde man steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. Robert licks at the dry skin of his lips, a nervous energy already settling in the pit of his stomach, “Was that on my account or some other boy-toy you were hoping to impress?” 

Joseph sighs, but the smile is still in place. 

“Don’t say boy-toy like that.” 

“Like what?” Robert challenges. 

“Like I’m bringing college aged boys here or something,” Joseph says, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his temple, “Like I’m some predator.” 

Robert rolls his eyes. The last time he was on the boat it wasn’t nearly as put-together as it is now. There were clothes strewn across the floor, empty wine bottles and matching glasses on the coffee table, the bed a mess of sheets and comforters. It looked nearly impeccable now, like Joseph hasn’t been here in a while. 

Robert knows this game. He knows this whole routine. He knew the second he stepped on board the yacht what the ending was going to be. He isn’t like everyone else. He knows Joseph, maybe just a little too well. Robert moves to the bed, sitting at the end of it, his boots propped up on a chest near the foot of the bed. Joseph still lingers at the door, like he’s the one who should be having second thoughts here. 

“If it looks like a shark and acts like a shark,” Robert says, trailing off as Joseph focuses on him. He shrugs, “Well, you know the rest.” 

Joseph huffs, but he makes his way across the room, his body swaying with the gentle rocking of the yacht on the water. He stops along the way and opens up the liquor cabinet tucked along the far wall, pulling out a bottle of deep burgundy colored wine. He hefts it up like a prize. 

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m fresh out of whiskey. Will this do?” 

Robert shrugs. “A drink is a drink.” 

“That it is,” Joseph says. He grabs up the corkscrew and pops it into the top of the bottle, hastily removing the cork with ease, like a man who is practiced in the motion. If Robert were someone else it might not be this way. If he were someone else Joseph might be pulling out all the stops, might be trying to impress with fancy glasses, with better wine, with more charm, but he isn’t anyone else. He’s Robert and this is Joseph, this is _them_ , and he knows them. 

Joseph is close now. He stands in a proud, tall line in front of Robert as he pulls a drink from the wine, his eyes locking with Robert’s the entire time. Joseph lowers the bottle and then he passes it off to Robert, their fingers brushing together, a dull warmth spreading across Robert’s skin. 

He tips the bottle back and drinks deeply from the cheap wine that Joseph is offering him. It tastes decent. It’s not the worst shit he’s ever had, but at the same time, he’s had better. Robert lowers the bottle and Joseph’s hand touches his cheek, his thumb swiping across the corner of Robert’s mouth to wipe away the excess wine. 

Their eyes are locked and Joseph’s are holding this electricity, this excitement, something Robert wishes he could muster up in himself. It felt strange being here on the yacht. Each time he was here it was like watching a movie, like reliving a memory, like he was standing inside of his own recollections of each time this has happened before. The way Robert feels now, well, it’s a far-cry from how he was that first time Joseph had brought him here. 

Joseph sits next to Robert, close enough that their thighs touch. He has the bottle again, and he takes a sip. Robert’s fingers itch for something to do, something that doesn’t involve undressing Joseph. He’s got one cigarette in the pack tucked into his jacket pocket, and he’d rather save that for the end of the night, when he’ll really need it. 

Joseph might sense his unease, his restlessness. He sets the bottle down on top of the chest, the sea-green bottle resting next to the toe of Robert’s boot. Joseph leans into Robert’s space and Robert catches the hint of wine, the cologne that Joseph wears, that tang of salt that always seems to cling to him, even if he’s at home, even if he’s at Robert’s place. 

Joseph’s hand finds his shoulder, the other, his cheek, and he turns Robert’s face so they can look at each other. Robert’s skin prickles, his face getting hot under Joseph’s watchful eyes. He hates feeling like Joseph’s trying to observe him, like Joseph is trying to figure him out. He can’t stand it. He’s about to tell Joseph to ‘hurry the fuck up’ when the blonde closes the gap between the two of them, their mouths connecting in a slow kiss. 

Robert closes his eyes and feels the familiar press of Joseph’s lips. He feels Joseph’s hand trail down his chest, fingers slipping under the weight of his jacket as he begins to work it off Robert’s shoulder, ridding Robert of his armor in a way that only he seems to know how to do, in a way that is incredibly dangerous for Robert. 

His jacket hangs down around the bend of his elbows and Robert lifts his arms to shuck the leather off the rest of the way, letting is settle on the bed around them. Joseph’s tongue brushes the bottom of Robert’s lip and Robert opens for him, lets him in. He tastes like wine and salt, and history, and Robert’s head begins to spin. He should have drunk more of the wine. 

Joseph breaks their kiss, “I’ve missed you,” he breathes, kissing Robert’s jaw. 

“Yeah?” Robert asks, “I didn’t go anywhere.” He won’t admit to missing Joseph, swears up and down he doesn’t, would never tell him even if he did. Joseph doesn’t deserve to hear that kind of shit, not from him. It wouldn’t do any good. He shifts the blame to Joseph. If Joseph missed him it’s his own fault, his own doing, his mistake and Robert wants him to know that. 

Joseph’s mouth creeps down Robert’s skin, seeking out his neck, pressing kisses there before his teeth dig into the tanned skin, earning a tight and surprised growl from Robert, his cock twitching to life in his jeans. The fucker. He knows all of Robert’s weakness and Robert, well, he sort of hates that. He wants Joseph to forget everything about him. 

It’s a constant wish, to be forgotten, to be lost to time and anyone that tries to help him. Mostly, he wants Joseph to forget because he wants it to be like that first time again, when Joseph looked at Robert like he had no damn clue what he was doing, like he didn’t know where to start, like Robert was something beautiful yet completely confusing. Maybe, he just wants to feel like he’s getting the better of Joseph again, like he’s making Joseph uneasy, like he’s winning for once. 

Joseph’s hand goes for the hem of Robert’s t-shirt, tugging it up, moving back so he can get it off. Robert lets Joseph strip him, watches him toss the shirt to the floor before he dips back in, his mouth peppering kisses across Robert’s collarbones, his nimble fingers scratching at the course, dark hair of Robert’s chest. Robert’s hand pushes into Joseph’s hair, mussing the finely slicked back strands, feeling the soft give. He tugs lightly, earning his own moans from Joseph’s mouth. 

“You never answered me,” Robert says. 

“Hmm?” Joseph mumbles, too preoccupied with his mouth against Robert’s skin.

“Why it’s so clean in here? Did you have company?” 

Joseph lifts his head, his mouth already a deep red and Robert licks his lips, wanting more, wanting redder, remembering every instance he’s ever seen Joseph with his mouth stretched red and wide around his cock. 

“Are you _jealous_?” Joseph tries, smirking despite the warm and eager look in his eyes, like he’s in any position to be cocky. 

“No,” Robert says, not even sure if he’s telling the truth or a lie, “Did you try and bring the new guy here? That new dad in town?” 

Joseph runs a hand through his hair and Robert watches as he undoes the buttons along his throat, he watches the ease with which Joseph tugs off his own shirt and tosses it next to Robert’s on the floor. His skin is pale and smooth, and Robert knows all too well what it feels like under his palms. 

“He turned me down,” Joseph says flatly, never one to want to outright admit defeat, but Robert often gets pieces of Joseph that no one else does. It’s something he takes a little pride in, “I heard he and Hugo are a thing.” 

“Good for them,” Robert says, though he could honestly care less about Hugo or his new neighbor and their happiness. 

“Yeah,” Joseph says, dipping his head, his tongue trailing a hot line across the scar decorating Robert’s chest, “What about you? Did you hit on him?”

Robert remembers the night at Jim and Kim’s. He remembers soft eyes and a nervous laugh, he remembers the urge to steep off the loneliness, and he remembers the new guy laying a hand on his and smiling sweet, if not a little condescending as he said, “Oh, no thank you.” 

“No,” Robert lies, “Not my type.” 

“Who is your type?” Joseph asks, looking up at Robert through his eyelashes. 

“No one you know.” 

Joseph doesn’t respond and instead he goes back to letting his tongue flick across Robert’s skin, moving down to his nipples, brushing the tip of his tongue over the dark bud. Robert sucks in a breath and he lets his hand trace the soft skin on the back of Joseph’s neck, fingers dancing along where flesh gives way to blonde hair. He sinks his fingers into the strands and tugs, listens to Joseph moan. It was better that the new guy turned Joseph down. No one deserved to be in this weird fucking dynamic with this strange man, no one, but Robert, apparently. The two of them were fuck-ups in their own sense, were screwed up, were broken in different ways, but kept falling together. No one else was cut-out for this kind of thing, no one else would survive in this environment. 

Joseph’s hand finds Robert’s stomach and he’s pushing back, urging Robert to lie down. Robert knows the drill and he follows course, lying down on his back on the mattress, feeling the barely-there rocking of the bed moving with the waves. Joseph is leaning over him, above him, hair hanging in his face, a soft, but hungry smile on his lips. 

His fingers trail down Robert’s stomach, he bends down so his mouth can follow the trail set by his hands. Robert rocks his hips up, undeniably turned on by Joseph’s teasing touches and his mouth, how close he is to the place Robert wants him the most but how he keeps circling around it, like a shark closing in on its prey. 

Finally, Joseph’s clever hands are undoing Robert’s belt, opening the button and tugging down the zipper. Robert watches through half-slit eyes as Joseph peels apart the flaps of Robert’s ragged jeans, he watches as Joseph’s eyes flick up to his face, a look of surprise before he lets out a husky laugh. 

“No underwear? Is that just for me?” 

“That’s because doing laundry is for assholes,” Robert says, shivering as he feels his jeans being tugged down. He kicks off his boots and Joseph gets Robert completely stripped in no time. Robert’s staring at the ceiling, the flecked white above him, the curtains in the far corner parted to let the dying rays of the sun seep into the room, coloring everything a warm and hazy orange. 

He can hear Joseph spit into his palm and the next thing he feels is Joseph’s fingers curling around the shaft of his cock, stroking him slowly. Robert props himself up on his elbows and sees the way Joseph is curled at his side, the way his arm is spread over Robert’s hips, the contrast between his pale skin and Robert’s tanned thighs, how he’s looking at Robert’s cock like he’s goddamn in love with it or some shit. The thought makes him throb in Joseph’s hand. 

“I’ve missed this too,” Joseph says, his voice practically a purr. 

Robert rocks up into Joseph’s touches, sighing, his head falling back between his shoulders. Joseph rubs just under the head of Robert’s dick, lets his index finger trace a line down the vein on the underside, he squeezes at Robert as he strokes him, swirling his fist over the head and letting his thumb swipe at the slit. Robert lets out his first real moan of the night. Goddamn Joseph. 

“Still sensitive there, I see,” Joseph says, and Robert doesn’t even need to look at him to see the smug look that’s on his face. 

“N-Not like I changed that much in a month.”

Joseph hums and his finger is rubbing over the slit of Robert’s dick, slow, teasing, the edge of his nail just barely _dragging_ against Robert’s skin. His hips try to buck, but Joseph keeps him pinned down with his forearm settled across his lap. Robert grits his teeth to keep from making noise, the feeling amazing and torturous, and he doesn’t want to give Joseph the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s affecting him. 

Joseph’s free hand snakes down to Robert’s balls, rolling them easily in his palm and Robert’s breath hitches in surprise. Joseph’s always been about excess; his huge house, most kids in the neighborhood, and now, with the way he wants to wring the noises from Robert, the way he’s already stroking and touching him, the way he leans down so his tongue can sweep over the slit of Robert’s cock. 

Robert shouts, he can’t help it, the sensation surprising him and he focuses back in on Joseph, on the way he’s acting like he didn’t do anything, how he isn’t even looking at Robert. His eyes are shut, long blonde lashes fanning against his pink cheeks as his tongue trails against the slit, pressing the tip in against it, making Robert’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he shakes and gasps, giving Joseph exactly what he wants. 

Joseph flattens his tongue and licks over the head, passing over the slit in wide strokes that have Robert shaking. He remembers when this was all new, when he had trouble believing that the Joseph who ran the church bake sales and organized youth group was the same man on his knees sucking cock, when the imagery of seeing Joseph do something as vulgar as nuzzling his face against a hard dick was enough to have Robert almost coming on the spot. 

He knows what a cock-slut Joseph is now and how much he loves dick, he knows the dual nature of Joseph’s personalities, he’s used to it. Joseph gives up on teasing Robert because he can’t control his own temptation, his own wants, too eager to feel Robert big and hard in his mouth. 

Joseph holds Robert’s dick steady at the base as he closes his mouth around the head, taking Robert in. Robert grunts, still pinned by Joseph’s arms, all he can do is watch, and, well, touch. He watches Joseph hollow his cheeks, watches him suck with his eyes fluttering, moaning like it’s his cock being sucked and not the other way around. 

“God, you’re still such a slut for it,” Robert says, letting his hands sink into Joseph’s hair, tugging a little and earning another moan from Joseph, feeling the vibrations rumbling against his cock, “Never seen a man alive who loves sucking dick as much as you.” 

Joseph pulls off with a wet pop, his mouth red and damp and he smiles before he spits on the head of Robert’s cock, uses his fist to stroke Robert again, his eyes fixated on the way his hand looks working Robert’s dick. 

“I’m passionate about my hobbies, what can I say?” Joseph says before he leans back down and takes Robert in his mouth again, setting a pace, his head moving slowly, his tongue flattened against the underside of Robert’s dick, rubbing against the thick vein. 

Joseph’s words sting for a fraction of a second, a single heartbeat, and then Robert lets it go. A hobby. Yeah, of course. Something to pass the time, something to distract from the humdrum of everyday life where you have to pretend to be something you’re not. It makes sense. 

Robert pulls Joseph’s hair again, a little harder than before, hearing a hiss from Joseph’s sweet, red mouth. 

“You want me to fuck your face? Want me to make you choke on my cock, huh? Hold you down until I see tears in your eyes.” 

Joseph moans again and Robert can see the way he ruts up against the mattress, no doubt hard himself. He’s a sight like that, shirtless, in his khaki shorts, rubbing his cock against the bed to get some pressure, some relief. Robert feels heat blossom in his stomach. 

He presses on Joseph’s head and watches Joseph willingly sink down his length, watches his lips stretch red and wide around the shaft. Goddamn, he’s so pretty like this, with a mouth full of dick. 

“What a good look for you,” Robert breathes, “mouth all full of _me_.” 

Joseph keeps going, lowering himself until his nose is touching Robert’s stomach, until his lips can go no further, until Robert can feel the head of his dick breaching the barrier of Joseph’s throat and sliding into the tight, hot, heat. 

“Fuck,” Robert breathes, fingers carding through Joseph’s hair, pushing it away from his damp face, “Holy shit.” He knows Joseph didn’t bring him all the way out to the yacht just to suck his dick. If they wanted that, they could have met up at Robert’s place, could have slipped in a quickie somewhere between the kids being at school and Mary volunteering at the shelter. 

Joseph brought him here for a specific reason. 

“If you want me to fuck you, you’d better pull off,” Robert warns. 

Joseph takes it to heart and then he’s sucking at Robert once, as if testing the idea, bobbing his head as he pulls up and off. There’s a string of spit connecting the head of his dick to Joseph’s lips and Robert watches, mesmerized, as Joseph wipes it away, breaking the thread between them. 

Joseph stands and undoes his shorts, pushing those and his ugly pale pink boxers down and off, kicking them to the floor. 

“In the bedside drawer- “Joseph starts. 

Robert waves a hand dismissively. “I know, did you forget who you’re talking to?” 

Joseph’s mouth flattens but he catches the bottle of lube that Robert lobs at him. 

Robert lies back on the bed, arms behind his head, intent on watching the show Joseph will undoubtedly put on for him. Joseph is a sight to see, standing there, long and lightly muscled, soft and fair, cock hard and leaking already. He strokes himself once, shuddering at his own touch before he climbs up on the bed. 

Joseph is on his knees on the bed, just out of Robert’s reach. He pops the cap on the lube and squirts some on to his fingers, rubbing it together, Robert having a Pavlovian response to the sight of Joseph’s glistening fingers. 

Joseph is good at teasing Robert, at teasing others, but not so much himself. The fingering isn’t his favorite part and Robert knows it, at least when Joseph fingers himself. There have been times Robert’s done it for him, where he sat on the backs of Joseph’s thighs and worked him open torturously slow, listening to every sound Joseph would release for him, feeling him shake just from his fingers. That was fun. 

Now, Joseph turns so his back is facing Robert and he works a hand between his thighs, rubs at his own hole, his body arching into his own touch. It’s more perfunctory, meant to get the job done than to get him off, but Robert can’t deny how delicious Joseph looks with his fingers pressing up inside of himself, the way he rocks back on to his hand, the light moans he lets out.

Robert strokes himself, squeezing his cock and listening to the wet slick noises, Joseph’s gasps and moans. He can hardly contain himself. The last time they did this he was way more fucked up, maybe they both were, and their sex was a frenzy of their bodies crashing together. It’s been awhile and Robert is eager to feel Joseph tight around him again. 

After a few moments Joseph stops prepping himself and turns to face Robert, to hand off the lube. Robert takes it and then leans over to dig into the bed side drawer and pull out a condom, but he feels Joseph’s hand on his wrist, stilling the movement. 

“No, don’t,” he says. 

“No?” Robert asks. 

Joseph takes the lube from Robert’s limp hand, pops it open and slicks up his palm again before he reaches out and strokes Robert’s cock, shaking his head. 

“I don’t want you to.” 

It’s a bad idea, but so are most of Joseph’s ideas, and when has a bad one ever stopped Robert before? 

He hisses as Joseph slicks up his dick. As quick as Joseph had touched him, he releases him and turns on to his hands and knees, assuming his favorite position. Heat rolls through Robert, seeing Joseph like that, waiting for him, seeing him tilt his hips back as he presents himself, just waiting to get fucked. 

Robert gets up on his knees behind Joseph, one hand holding his hip and the other around the base of his cock as he guides himself to Joseph’s entrance. Joseph dips his head as Robert lines himself up, his nails biting into the tender skin of Joseph’s hip as Robert starts to push inside.

“Fuck,” Joseph breathes, “Robert.” He says his name breathy, soft, like praise and Robert prickles. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna fuck you now,” Robert confirms, pushing away any thoughts that this is romantic, that this is anything more than the two of them getting their rocks off together. 

Robert keeps pushing, easing himself inside, feeling Joseph’s tight body clenching around him. He keeps moving until he bottoms out, until he’s fully inside and he grunts, his hands grasping at Joseph’s hips. He doesn’t know the last person Joseph was with, doesn’t know if he loves to get fucked with others as much as he does with Robert. Sometimes it’s reversed and sometimes Robert’s legs are hooked over Joseph’s shoulders as he’s fucked into the mattress, but more often than not it’s this, it’s Joseph dying to get Robert inside of him. 

Robert stays frozen until Joseph starts wriggling, until he huffs, “Move, come on, _fuck_ me.” 

“There’s the bossy asshole I know,” Robert says, letting his nails bite into the soft swell of Joseph’s ass, earning a gasp from him, but he obliges because Joseph feels amazing around his dick, too good to stay still. 

Robert pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the head inside before he pushes back in, filling Joseph again and feeling the man shake under him. 

“F-Fuck.” 

Robert repeats the motion, pulling out slow and then pressing in fast, each thrust lurching Joseph forward a bit, each one making him moan loud in the quiet of the room. 

“Di-Did you forget how I like it?” Joseph asks, turning his head to peer at Robert. 

Robert scoffs, “Maybe I just like hearing you ask for it.” It’s a challenge, but not one that Joseph is going to back down from, Robert knows that much. 

Joseph keeps eye contact with Robert, his tongue licking over his lips, eyes fluttering as Robert gives another hard thrust. 

“Rough, Rob, fuck me rough.” 

Robert slows down and Joseph growls low in his throat. 

“You didn’t say please.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Joseph corrects. 

It’s funny to him how Joseph has all the cards in his hand, how he’s always in control, until it comes to this, until he wants to get fucked and then he’s _putty_. He’s soft for Robert. He doesn’t get it often and Robert likes to see it, to hear it, to witness firsthand how bad Joseph wants him. 

“Sure thing. Was that so hard?” Robert asks. He grabs at one of Joseph’s arms, curling his fingers around Joseph’s wrist as he moves Joseph’s arm so that it’s pressed against his back. 

Joseph knows the drill and goes down easy, planting his upper body into the mattress, his ass in the air, and his face pressed sideways into the pillow. Robert presses down on the arm he’s got behind Joseph’s back, listens to him moan. He uses the position for more leverage. Joseph looks so damn good like this. 

Robert sets a fast pace, pressing Joseph into the mattress as he starts to fuck him again. He won’t admit how much he loves this too, how dirty it feels to hold Joseph down and fuck him raw, hard, listening to him moan. The change in Joseph is almost instantaneous. He goes from huffing and whining to moaning, pleased and happy. 

Robert can feel Joseph pressing into the thrusts, meeting Robert pace-for-pace, so needy for it all. Joseph is so hot, so tight, and it feels good to give up any thoughts beyond seeking out that heat, that pleasure. Robert drowns himself in it. He uses it as an escape from the here and now, from them, from tomorrow, all he has to focus on is fucking the shit out of Joseph Christansen.

“Robert,” Joseph moans, “Rob, _Robby_ , fuck!”

“Were you going to let that new dad fuck you?” Robert growls, “If he said yes would you have let him fuck you?” he doesn’t know why he’s asking, why now, in the middle of this. He doesn’t even want to know, not really, but the question leaves him. 

“N-No,” Joseph admits, “On-Only you.” 

Robert moans and leans over Joseph’s back, his hips working fast and rough as he fucks into Joseph, the bed creaking under their combined weight. He gets a fistful of Joseph’s hair in his other hand, pulls harder than before and hears Joseph moan. 

“Yeah, you’re _my_ cock-slut. You can pretend all you want but we both know how much you love this, love when I’m fucking the shit out of you.” 

“Yes,” Joseph moans, “Fuck me, yes.” 

It’s been so long and Robert isn’t as young as he used to be, he can’t make this all last for hours like he wants, at least not this first round. He’s more than sure that Joseph will give him a second round and maybe he’ll get to come down Joseph’s throat after-all, later tonight, when the sun has set and the moon is huge and bright overhead. Maybe Joseph will let Robert fuck him above deck, under the starlit sky, bending Joseph over the railing as Robert pounds into him. 

Either way he knows the night is promising, is extending beyond just this. 

“Your hot little ass is going to make me come, Joseph,” Robert growls into Joseph’s ear, “You want that?” 

Joseph grinds back into Robert’s impossibly fast thrusts. Robert can feel him clenching down, can feel Joseph tightening around him. 

“Fill me,” Joseph says, “Fill me up, Robert.” 

Robert’s whole body feels so hot he could explode, he could burn up right here and now, he could die with Joseph Christansen on this godforsaken boat and anyone that knew him would deem it a fitting ending for his life. 

He keeps Joseph pinned to the mattress, keeps his hand twisted in Joseph’s hair as he slams into him. A tight hole, warm heat, that’s all. That’s all that matters. Joseph’s fingers clutch at the sheets under him, his breathing is harsh and wet, so breathy with the way he’s panting, how he can do little else besides chant Robert’s name and beg him to come. 

Robert releases Joseph’s hair and then slides his hand under them, seeking out Joseph’s cock. He strokes it, rubs his thumb over the leaking head, fucking Joseph as he jerks him off. Joseph moans, choked off, almost a sob. It felt good to see Joseph overwhelmed, it felt even better to have Joseph clenching around him.

“I want you to come first,” Robert says, “You come for me and then I’ll fill your ass.” 

Joseph’s whole body is shaking, his skin going splotchy and pink, his voice wavering and wet. The sounds of their bodies meeting so slick and loud in the room. It’s barely half a minute before Joseph whines, before he shudders so hard, before Robert swears he sees tears in the corners of his eyes and then he shoots his load sticky and wet over Robert’s hand. 

The way Joseph clenches around him, the sounds he makes, the way he came so hard he’s _crying_ , it’s what does Robert in. He fucks into Joseph once, twice, before he freezes, bent over Joseph’s warm body, gripping the sheets next to Joseph’s head as he comes, as he comes in thick ropes inside of Joseph, filling him as he promised. 

They slump together on the bed, Robert slipping from Joseph’s ass and hearing Joseph let out a soft whimper. He can hardly breathe, the room so stuffy and hot. He could use more of that wine right about now. 

Joseph rolls close to Robert, takes Robert’s face in his shaking hands and presses a kiss to Robert’s mouth, too soft, too sweet as their heartbeats fall in time together. 

Robert pulls away, shoots up off the bed. He can’t. Joseph looks disappointed for a fraction of a second before the look is gone, faded into neutral, into sated and pleased. 

Robert grabs for his abandoned leather jacket, digging into the pocket before he produces his pack of cigarettes with the one lone survivor in it. He takes it out, tucking it between his teeth as he grabs for Joseph’s idiotic pink boxers, tugging them on in lieu of his own. 

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” Robert says. He needs a moment, a moment away from Joseph, away from the bedroom of the yacht, away from himself. Joseph doesn’t say a word, doesn’t try to stop him as Robert opens the door and climbs the stairs heading towards the deck.


End file.
